Care Package
by Lils
Summary: There were no phone calls. No letters. No emails. Nothing. Sam hadn’t expected this day to be any different. He had hoped. As much as he hated the life he had left, he felt himself missing his family at times. One shot. PreSeries.


A/N: The solution to freaky family problems? Write about a freakier family than your own.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural.

_Care Package_

Sam never received any cards or letters at Stanford. No e-emails. No telephone calls. Nothing. He had never expected any. His father had made it perfectly clear that Sam was no longer to have any contact with the other Winchesters. _If you walk out that door, Sammy, you better not come back, _were the words that came from his father's mouth. Sam cringed every time that conversation would play in his mind. Against his will, his father's words still stung.

Sam vividly remembered that fight. It had been the final in a long string of fights that had started when he was thirteen and told his father he didn't want to train because he wanted to try out for the soccer team. _When has soccer ever saved anyone's life, Sammy? We're doing important work here. These are useful skills you're learning._ Sam had caved in quickly on that one. He was not used to confrontations with his father then.

That soon changed, and Sam became more and more stubborn with each one, as did his father. Sam usually gave in though, letting his father win after hours of seemingly relentless verbal sparring matches. Sam would concede and agree to hunt and train after the fight had been going on for awhile. Until Stanford. He had put off telling his father and brother about it until a couple of weeks before freshman orientation. He had tried to make the prior weeks as smooth as possible. The calm right before the storm.

He had planned and practiced what he would say to his father. It was the one fight Sam was determined not to cave in under any circumstances. His father's ultimatum had thrown him that was for sure. But Sam was already resolved at that point. He accepted it as a necessary cost of victory. And so, without saying anything else, Sam quickly retreated to his room, leaving John with a false sense of victory as Sam slammed the door behind him. He threw his few non-lethal possessions into his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

_Sammy? _Dean called questioningly as Sam determinedly exited his room and silently proceeded to leave the decrepit motel they were staying in that week. In the middle of the night, Sam walked to the nearest bus station and bought a ticked to California, unsure of what he would do for the next two months until school started. And that was the last time he had seen his brother or his father.

He had become an outcast in his family. If it weren't for a few select pictures, his friends at Stanford would have never known that he even had a family. There were no phone calls. No letters. No e-mails. Nothing.

Sam hadn't expected this day to be any different. He had hoped. As much as he hated the life he had left, he felt himself missing his family at times. He missed the gruff voice of his father. He missed the cocky smile of his big brother. He would never admit it to anyone, but there were times where he almost missed hunting.

He sifted through the small stack of letters that had come for him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his father's messy scrawl or Dean's illegible handwriting. Despite his expectations, disappointment sunk in as he threw away the few letters he had received - all junk mail. He quickly masked hid his disappointment though as he saw a small blonde walking quickly towards him.

"No birthday cards, huh?" she stated in a very matter-of-fact tone as they started to walk back to his dorm room together.

"No."

"They're probably just late. You know how the postal system can be. It always takes weeks for me to get things from my parents," she comforted.

"I don't think I have any coming," he replied honestly, trying not to let her know how disappointed he was. His family had never missed his birthday before. When he was turning seven, he and Dean had been staying with Pastor Jim while their dad was on a particularly dangerous hunt. And his dad drove twelve hours with fractured ribs and a broken arm, so he could be there for Sam's birthday.

"I'm sure you have something coming," she consoled him. So much for hiding disappointment.

"No, Jess, I don't. My family and I don't really see eye to eye. On anything."

"That doesn't mean they would just forget your birthday."

"I don't think they forgot, I just don't think they'll send anything," Sam tried to explain the complicated situation between him and his family, especially his dad. But how was he supposed to explain that his dad threw him out after he told him he had earned a full ride to Stanford. It wasn't the reaction that most parents had.

"Sam."

"My dad was pretty angry the last time I saw him. I don't think I'll be getting anything for my birthday."

"You're wrong," she stated simply.

"No, Jess, you don't understand," he tried to reason until he saw that Jess was no longer paying attention to what he was saying. Instead, she now focused all of her attention on pulling out a small white envelope from her purse. She held it up in front of Sam. "It's a birthday card."

"I figured," he responded with a small smile.

"And you thought you wouldn't get anything."

"From my family. And I won't," he amended as he ripped open the card and quickly scanned over its contents. "Thanks Jess."

"There's more, but it's a surprise," she said as she pulled him into a hug.

"What is it?"

"You'll find out later. We're on for dinner tonight, right? Big birthday celebration? At seven?" she asked.

"Yeah, seven's fine."

"Great. I have class now, but I'll see you later okay? And don't mope too much. It's your birthday, be happy."

"I'll try," he said as he gave her a quick kiss goodbye. He arrived at his dorm room, but before he could unlock the door a small, plain, brown package caught his eye. He bent down and picked it up. His eyes caught sight of his name written carefully on the corner of the package. He figured it was the rest of Jessica's gift. It was surprisingly heavy. He opened the door and tossed the package on his bed. He tore the paper and tape off and opened the box.

One look at its contents, and he knew it wasn't from Jess. It was a care package. The most twisted and bizarre care package anyone could possibly receive. There was a box of table salt, a small battered leather-bound book with Latin on the cover and exorcisms inside, a vial of holy water, a machete, a shotgun, a picture of the three of them, and a birthday card with two words written inside:

_Be careful._

Sam smiled as he pulled out the card and the picture from the box. He then placed the box on the floor, closed it, and slid it under the bed. His cell phone rang with an unfamiliar number, probably a call from a pay phone.

"Nothing's changed," the gruff voice said. Sam recognized it instantly. He was surprised at how happy he was to hear it. "I still don't want you there."

"I still don't want to hunt," Sam replied defiantly as the familiar intensity of their fights began to slowly rise. All warm and fuzzy thoughts had quickly vanished. "This is where I want to be."

"You're still fine with turning your back on your family? Abandoning your brother and me? Throwing away everything that we've been fighting for?"

"You're the one who told me to stay gone," Sam defended angrily, ready to hang up on his father. "I'm just doing what you told me."

Sam waited for his father to respond. Silence came from the other end. Sam was about to hang up when his father spoke again, softer this time.

"Sam," he said in his most controlled voice. Sam could tell it was taking all of his strength to refrain from yelling.

"What?" he asked in obvious irritation.

"Be careful, okay?"

The connection broke.

Sam sat on the bed for a few minutes feeling slightly stunned. He knew he wasn't going to hear from his father again for a very long time. He got down on his knees and pulled the care package out from under the bed. His father's words rang in his ears. He stared at the contents for a few seconds before reaching for the vial of holy water.

"Couldn't hurt," he muttered quietly to himself.

He quickly shoved it in his pocket, closed the box again, and slid the care package under the bed again.


End file.
